


Let's Die A Little

by L_M_Biggs



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Fright Night (2011)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Daddy Kink, M/M, Slow Burn, daddy kink for dayz, rating subject to change with later additions, tagged in case any of you aren't into that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 21:54:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9143695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L_M_Biggs/pseuds/L_M_Biggs
Summary: “You’re going to have so many others like me coming for that scent, Credence.” He groaned softly, slipping the pad of his thumb into the boy’s slack mouth. Credence shivered, sucking gently on the digit out of pure instinct as he stared up at the man before him. “You smell... So ripe... Like a fresh peach.” The thumb gave a soft, shallow thrust into Credence’s mouth and the boy whimpered, his lips parting slightly so that the man could press down on his tongue and see inside his mouth, those dark eyes fixed on the sight as if mesmerized.Graves leaned forward, eyes shifting so that staring down at Credence’s own eyes. “A man’s got to look out for his business... And you’re my business now, sweet boy.”





	

Credence spends every evening after school handing out flyers. Usually at the mall, sometimes in neighbourhoods, slipping his mother’s pamphlets into the mailboxes or door handles. Mary Lou would give him a stack of roughly a hundred of the small flyers and tell him to distribute them.

“We must bring the Lord’s word to this godless place of sin and vice. It is our duty.” 

So Credence walked through the streets of Las Vegas, through the subdivisions and malls, through community areas, his shoulders hunched and head bowed, avoiding looking up at the rampant sin that his mother swore they were doing their part to extinguish.

“This is the new Gomorrah, Credence, Chastity, Modesty. This is where our works will be most needed.”

So he walked and handed out flyers and slipped them into the mailboxes of doors and when it was finally dusk and his stack had been sufficiently depleted, he’d go home. 

Walking down his street towards his house he couldn’t help but pause as he stared at the moving truck parked in front of what used to be the Wilkinsons. 

He had liked them; they would let him come inside for lemonade in the summer and hot chocolate in the winter and had been sad to see them go. Mother had mentioned that it would be a man moving into the house instead. A single man. She had then forbidden any of them to speaking with him.

“The only men who are so old and unmarried are sodomites and pedophiles. Only men of the cloth should reach such an age without a wife or family.”

Credence jumped as he heard the sound of a box being put down on a table inside the house, his heart pounding as he stared at the door. He had no idea why he had come to stand before his new neighbour’s door, but a part of him couldn’t help the curiosity.

Besides. He could hand the man a flyer.

A shaky hand was raised to knock on the door, only for it to swing open and Credence’s hand to almost come in contact with the man’s broad chest. Snatching his hand back, Credence stared up at the man’s face, shivering at what he saw there. 

The man was only a few inches taller than Credence’s own gangly frame. His shoulders were wide and his middle solid. He wore nothing but a white wifebeater, covered in sweat, and a pair of jeans, no shoes on his feet or a shirt covering his strong, corded arms. Looking into his eyes Credence couldn’t help but shiver, staring at the inky darkness of them, the man’s thick, expressive brows drawn up in surprise as he looked Credence over. A slow, curious smile came across the man’s lips as he looked down at the boy before him, stepping out of the house and effectively into Credence’s space.

“Hello there,” the man smiles, slick and dark. His teeth were too straight, too long, too perfect. “How can I help you?” A broad hand ran through his hair, slicking back the loose strands and scratching at the shaved sides. 

“I... I’m your neighbour.” The boy gestured to his home, swallowing thickly. “I... Here.” He held out a flyer to the man, trembling as those powerful, thick fingers gently took the flyer, his eyes reading it over carefully. 

“The Evils of Las Vegas.” The man read aloud, his lips twitching into a smile. “Idolatry... Fornication... Witchcraft... Murder... Obscenity...” His tongue traced over his upper lip as he looked down at Credence, lowering the flyer slightly. “ _Lust_.”

“There’s a service my mother holds every Sunday.” The boy whispered. “She tries to guide those lost to God.”

“Does she do a good job of it?” The man asked curiously, tilting his head to peer down at Credence. 

Credence shrugged and looked down. “People come.”

“Thank you for the flyer...” He looked expectantly down at the boy and Credence jumped before glancing back down at his shoes. 

“Credence.”

“Well then, Credence,” The man smiled and tilted his head so he could meet Credence’s eyes. “My name is Graves.” There was a hunger in those inky eyes and it bled over Credence’s skin, sticking to his ribs like tar. “I will be seeing you around again.”

Credence didn’t know why he felt compelled to nod his head in agreement. His mother had forbidden her children from speaking with the man, and would surely strike him already for simply giving him a flyer. 

But... Credence couldn’t look away from those eyes, lovely dark and deep, and his chest seized slightly as he turned away from the man to walk back home. He unlocked the door, stepping in and touching the crucifix hung by the door out of habit, shuddering at the cold of the metal body. Gathering his courage he turned to look at Mr. Graves, jumping at the sight of the man leaning on his own doorframe, watching Credence.

Shuffling inside, Credence closed and locked the door, trying his best to ignore the pounding of his heart as he went to the kitchen to prepare dinner.

\--

Credence jumped as he heard a voice call his name, turning from where he was looking through his small, worried envelope of coupons, his grocery basket slung over his arm. His mother had given him fifty dollars and a short list of essentials to purchase. He had taken the bus to the store and now was trying to figure out if he could afford fare back while still pinching as many pennies to remain within his budget.

“Fancy seeing you here.” Mr. Graves smiled, the expression looking like something he had spent much time practicing so as not to appear too intimidating. He had only a bag of apples and a six pack of beer in hand as he peered at the modest contents of Credence’s basket. “Late night shopping?”

“Mother holds a bible study and the girls help her. She likes having food when they come home.” The boy fiddled with his envelope. 

“You drive?”

“No.”

The man’s brows furrowed and he stared down at Credence. “This is... A ways to walk for some milk and chicken.”

“I caught the bus.” The boy glanced up, watching as Graves’ expression remained concerned. 

“I’ll drive you home.” The man nodded, as if everything was settled, even as Credence’s heart stuttered for a moment. 

“I couldn’t... Mr. Graves, she’d be very angry if she found out-”

“She won’t. It’ll be our little secret.” The man smiled, standing in the middle of the aisle, looking down at Credence as the boy fidgeted and stuttered. “Credence.” The boy’s head snapped up at the sound of his name and the man smiled. “I promise I won’t tell her. You’re safe with me.”

The boy bit his lip, chewing it until he was sure he might draw blood before he nodded and took in a breath to steel himself. “Alright,” He fumbled with the basket’s handle, adjusting it on the crook of his elbow. “Let me just - I’ll pay for these.”

Standing in line, with Mr. Graves behind him, Credence fixed his eyes on the colourful magazine covers, the array of candy bars and packets of gum. He jumped when the man’s hand reached out, collecting a kit kat bar that Credence had been staring at for a particularly long time. The boy jumped and shuffled forward as his items were rung up, holding out the numerous coupons and then the cash left for him. He placed the change and the receipt into his envelope before he stood, holding his bags and waiting for Mr. Graves.

The process was much quicker with his three items and when the man was finished he led them to the large, dark pickup that he drove. Credence sat in the leather seats, feeling as if he might sweat through his ill fitting clothes and stain the nice fabric. 

“Relax. I won’t bite.” The man smirked, looking over at the boy as he started the truck. “Yet.”

Credence glanced at him, shivering and nodding as they drove from the supermarket and into the long, dark expanse of road leading back home. 

The trip passed in silence, Graves seeming content to be in the same space as Credence, drumming his fingers lightly on the wheel to the tune of whatever faint music played through the radio. Every so often he’d inhale deeply and Credence would flinch away slightly, watching until the man let out the breath in a slow rush past his lips. 

They arrived after about twenty minutes, much shorter than the hour Credence knew it would take for the bus to bring him home, and he quickly stepped out of the car with his bags, looking up with a small, uncertain smile. 

“Thank you, Mr. Graves.” He murmured, watching as the man stepped out and walked around the front of the truck, smiling as he held out the kit kat to Credence. 

“Here. Sweets for the sweet.”

Credence stared down at the chocolate before he reached out, accepting it even as he held the other bags, chewing his lip again nervously. “I can pay you back.”

“Don’t worry about it.” The man smiled. “Pay me back by enjoying it.”

Credence nodded with a flush, looking down as he took a brief, uncertain step back. “Yes, Mr. Graves.”

It took some maneuvering to open the front door, swinging the glass open and stepping over the threshold. He placed the bags down, touched the crucifix, and turned to close the door, jumping in shock, hiding slightly behind the wood and glass as Mr. Graves stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame. 

“I was wondering...” The man drawled, smiling as he watched the boy. “Would you like to come over sometime?”

“I - Yes, I would but -” The boy dropped his eyes, shivering slightly under the gaze of the man. “Mother says I shouldn’t talk to you.” He recalled her threatening to belt his hands if he so much as spoke to the man. He could only imagine what she would do if she found out Mr. Graves had driven him home, that he had been invited to the man’s home. 

“Why is that?”

“She believes you’re unholy.” Credence bit his lip, wringing his fingers and fiddling with his keys. “She says you’d lead us astray.”

“She would know, wouldn’t she?” The man smiled pointedly down at the flyers that sat stacked beside the door, prepared to be handed to anyone who came to their home. “What does she believe I could do to you to lead you astray?” Graves’ dark eyes lazily, openly dragged over Credence’s thin frame, lingering on the boy’s long, slim legs. “Or is it that you’ve been looking for a guide?”

Credence stepped back slightly, closing the door another foot. “Mr. Graves, I think you should go.” He whispered. “I don’t want her seeing you here when she comes home.”

The man smiled widely, tilting his head to the boy. “I’ll come by later... Maybe we could grab a bite together? Talk some more?”

Credence didn’t understand why his face warmed at the man’s words, perhaps it was the way he said it as if they might do more than eat, but he simply nodded quietly. “Goodnight, Mr. Graves.”

“Goodnight, sweet boy.” The man leaned back enough that Credence could close the door. Credence stepped away from the door so that his silhouette couldn’t show through, stepping into the living room and quietly watching the glass. Graves stood there for another good thirty seconds, leaning closer to the door.

Credence could swear he heard the man’s deep, heavy inhale before the shadowy shape turned and left. 

Slumping against the wall Credence gasped as he took in a deep, shaky breath, feeling his stomach doing somersaults. He bit his lip, peeking back to the front door for a moment before standing on shaky legs and collecting the bags, walking into the kitchen.

The red wrapper of the kit kat gleamed at him, bright and tempting, and he shivered before he peeled back the wrapper, snapping off one slender stick and eating it slowly. A moan escaped him at the taste of sugar and chocolate and the crunch of the wafer beneath. He stuck his thumb into his mouth to lick the chocolate off, glancing up when he saw a flicker of a shadow in the window, his thumb still tucked between his lips for a moment before he stepped over to the window, peering over at the window next door with the blacked out windows and Mr. Graves’ truck in the driveway. 

He’d have to find some way to repay the man for the treat he had given him, once he stopped feeling so shaky about the man’s gaze fixed on him as if he was staring and Credence was a tempting meal laid out for him.

\--

Credence peered out the kitchen window, seeing the broad shoulders and the shaven back of Graves’ head as the man watered his massive rose bushes. They had been left behind by the old neighbours but had never flourished as much as they did under the careful attentions of the new tenant. Glancing at the door that led into the garage, Credence bit his lip before he collected one of the tall, simple glasses from the cabinet, filling it with lemonade and a few ice cubes. Stepping out into the dry heat of the night he still couldn’t help the shivers that escaped him as he approached the gate to Mr. Graves’ back yard.

He knocked politely and listened as the hose was turned off and the man approached, swinging the gate open. 

Credence bit his lip at the slow, lazy smile that came to the man’s lips, those dark eyes tracing over his features as the man stepped forward. “Credence.” His eyes landed on the lemonade, liquid almost sloshing over the brim in Credence's trembling hands. “Sweet boy. How are you?”

“I’m doing well, Mr. Graves.” The boy whispered, holding out the glass. “You’ve been working very hard.”

The man grinned, leaning against the fence and draining half of the glass in a few greedy gulps. He licked his lips and Credence felt his body trembling, his heart lodged in his throat as he stared at the older man. 

“Would you like to see them?” The man asked, gesturing to the yard. Credence shivered, pausing before he nodded and approached, stepping into the man’s property and gasping at the sight of the flourishing rose bushes. They were tall enough that they crawled over the treillis of the house, a familiar enough sight, but where the Wilkinsons had rarely gotten the flowers to bloom, Graves now had deep, bloody red flowers covering the entirety of the back wall. 

“Here.” The man plucked a rose from the nearest bush, snapping the thorny stem off with an ease that surprised Credence. “For the lemonade.” The man smiled, holding out the flower carefully.

Credence’s fingers reached out, caressing the bloom before he cupped the flower, holding it close to his nose and breathing in the rich, fragrant scent of it. He couldn’t help the smile that crossed his lips, kissing the petals gently, looking up when he heard the long, slow inhale of the man standing too close to him. Credence’s eyes widened at the inky blackness he was met with, Graves’ eyes pinning the boy in place as he leaned forward until their faces were mere inches apart.

“Keep it.” He murmured with a smile. 

“Mother will see it. She’ll know.” The boy murmured, holding out the rose to Mr. Graves again, smiling slightly. “But thank you.”

The man didn’t reach out for the flower, letting Credence hold it for a bit more. “That only means you’ll have to come back here to enjoy my garden more.”

Credence glanced up, biting his lower lip before nodding, looking down again, his eyes unwittingly fixing on the man’s gleaming belt buckle, resting low on his hips. He pulled his arm back, holding the flower with one hand and fiddling with the stem with the other, his fingers gently tracing the thorns, avoiding them carefully as he shuffled and nodded. “Yes, Mr. Graves.”

Graves smiled, grasping Credence’s chin and tilting his head up. The boy stiffened, gasping slightly in surprise as he pricked himself in his surprise. 

The man let out a sharp inhale, his grip on Credence’s chin tightening before turning to gently cradle his jaw. “Oh...” He murmured, looking down. “You’ve cut yourself.”

Credence stared down at his finger, blood welling upon the tip from the thorn. It didn’t hurt. He knew hurt. The man observed the fat bead of ruby red before he leaned forward, as if to kiss the wound, his tongue flickering against his lip in anticipation.

Shivering even more Credence jerked his hand back, staring at Mr. Graves and flushing as he stepped back.

“I should go home.”

“At least let me clean that?” The man reached out again and Credence shook his head, looking down at his feet. 

“It’s alright, Mr. Graves. I should be going home anyway.”

“Credence.” The man called just as the boy reached the gate. Credence glanced over, shivering at the sight of Graves watching him. “Tomorrow. I’ll take you to dinner tomorrow.”

Credence bit his lip, looking straight at the man before he nodded. He wasn’t entirely sure why he wanted to spend more time with this man. It was as if he was pulled closer by an invisible force.

He would deny to the end of his days that he wanted the man to touch him, to be kind to him, to look at him and see him. 

Credence closed the kitchen door, freezing when he saw his mother seated at the table. 

“Credence.” She stated simply, her eyes going to his hand. 

The rose was still clutched there. And Graves still had the glass of lemonade Credence had brought him. His shoulder slumped as he resigned himself to his fate, knowing that punishment would be dragged out the longer he hesitated and waited.

“Your belt, Credence.” The woman held out her hand. Reaching down he slowly undid his belt, handing it over. The buckle clinked ominously as Mary Lou grasped the leather end. “I told you not to speak with that godless heathen.”

“Yes, Ma.” The boy whispered, staring at the floor. 

“Hold out your hand.”

Placing the rose aside, Credence held out his hand, jerking and crying out loudly at the tearing sting of the belt buckle upon his palm, the hard metal cutting easily through his skin. His entire arm stiffened so abruptly the muscles ached with the pain, his fingers curling instinctively for a moment before he flattened them out once more. He couldn’t help but think of the pain, struggling to empty his mind of anything but the idea of when it would end.

Several more blows and Credence was kneeling beside the table, holding his hands up even as he gasped and bowed his head, nearly prostrate to the ground in a parody of prayer. He could swear that the leather and metal would flay open his skin and flesh, reach the bone, ruin his hand, but he knew his mother had more control than that. 

The belt caught on his shoulder and he howled with pain, quickly cutting the noise off as he gasped and writhed in place. He could only feel the agony of his shoulders when his mother finally finished with her punishment, shoving him to his hands and knees, watching as red smears stained the white tile.

“Out of my sight.” She hissed, grabbing the boy’s hair and shoving him again. “I will not have wickedness in this house. That man is not to set foot in here, am I understood?”

Credence simply nodded, not trusting anything but a scream to come from his throat as he slowly pushed himself to unsteady feet, climbing the stairs and falling into bed, a strangled groan of pain slipping through his teeth as he laid in bed, blood seeping from his hands and back to soak the sheets. 

“Mr. Graves.” He whimpered into his pillow, clutching it close and sobbing softly so as not to tempt his mother into punishing him for noisiness. He felt slightly pathetic, wanting the man to comfort him, to protect him. He was practically a stranger, no matter how kind and open he has been. Credence is nothing, is nobody, has nothing to offer the man who had been so kind to him.

He curled in on himself, whimpering as his tears dripped into his palms, stinging the raw flesh and mingling with the blood.

\--

There was a knock on the kitchen door and Credence jumped, staring at it before he shuffled over, hand hesitating over the knob, wrapped in thin bandages that did little to blot the scabs. 

“Credence.” The deep, familiar voice called and Credence bit his lip, shuffling forward and carefully cracked open the door, staring down at the man’s feet, refusing to meet his eyes. “What happened?”

“I can’t go with you tonight.” The boy whispered, making sure to hide his hands from sight. “I’m sorry. You should go.”

He moved to close the door only for the man to speak up. “Show me your hands.”

Credence froze, his eyes slowly looking up into the man’s face. There is a look of absolute fury and Credence pulls back slightly, tears pricking his eyes as he shakily holds his hand out to the hot night air. Graves stared at the bandages, taking Credence’s palm in his own and carefully peeling the thin gauze back. 

“I’m sorry.” The boy choked out, ducking his head as he offered up his hand, prepared for a strike upon the vulnerable flesh for being unable to give what the man wanted. “I’m sorry, please, don’t... I didn’t mean to. She came home early, I’m sorry.”

“Shhhh, sweet boy.” The man lowered his head to nuzzle at the dried and crusted blood of his palm, Credence jerking at the soft stings of pain before a gasp escaped him. A wet warmth covered his palm and Credence stared down as the man licked at the wounds, sucking at the ones that bled sluggishly where scabs had been reopened. Once that hand was cleaned of blood the man stared at Credence, panting and shaking, his eyes darker than before as his pupils dilated wider. “The other.”

Credence held out his other hand, watching and breathing shakily as his palm was licked clean and his fingers sucked gently before the man pulled back. He gasped when he saw the scabs healing upon his palm, closing up, the bleeding stopped. His eyes snapped up to stare at Graves as the man stepped forward, closer to the boundary but never crossing the threshold.

“Now, Credence.” The man stepped forward, staring deep into Credence’s eyes as he leaned against the doorframe. “I know she hurts you.” Credence nodded. “She ignores you until she wants to inflict pain on you.” Graves’ eyes bore down on the boy. “That kind of neglect,” He thumbs his nose, pretending to take a whiff of air. “It gives off a scent.”

Credence’s breath hitched as the man stared at him, shivering as he felt over his healed hands. Surely this man is the devil, is Satan himself, with his eyes boring deep into Credence, as if he could see the boy’s sinful desires. 

Graves whispered softly, “Come here.”

He was helpless to do much else than lean forward, letting Graves drag a thumb over Credence’s full lower lip, feeling Credence’s shuddering breath. 

“You’re going to have so many others like me coming for that scent, Credence.” He groaned softly, slipping the pad of his thumb into the boy’s slack mouth. Credence shivered, sucking gently on the digit out of pure instinct as he stared up at the man before him. “You smell... _So_ ripe... Like a fresh peach.” The thumb gave a soft, shallow thrust into Credence’s mouth and the boy whimpered, his lips parting slightly so that the man could press down on his tongue and see inside his mouth, those dark eyes fixed on the sight as if mesmerized.

Graves leaned forward, eyes shifting so that staring down at Credence’s own eyes. “A man’s got to look out for his business... And you’re my business now, sweet boy.”

Credence nodded, feeling something shiver and clench inside his chest at that statement. He was Mr. Graves’ business now. He was his in a way that he was not entirely sure of, confused by the man’s words and the thumb pressing against his mouth and the scent of earth and colonge and man that clung to Graves. The boy whimpered softly as the thumb was removed from his mouth, staring up at the man silently even as Graves watched him expectantly until Credence whispered, “Thank you, Mr. Graves.”

That slow, lazy smile peeled over the man’s lips and Graves pulled his hand slowly back, tracing a finger over the boy’s full lower lip. “Go rest, sweet boy. I’ll see you later.”

Credence nodded, stepping back slowly and shivering as he slowly closed the door on the man, turning to go to his bedroom without a second thought. It wasn’t until he laid down in bed and shivered did he realise his back still stung with the pain of the lashes. His mind wandered, unbidden, to Mr. Graves licking his shoulders, sucking the soft flesh and nuzzling at the curve of his spine.

He wanted, more than anything, more than life itself, in that moment, to be Mr. Graves’ sweet boy. To slip from his house and into the man’s arms and feel his lips upon every inch of his skin. His healed hand slid down his belly, creeping low to rest just below the line of his belt, shivering at the aching burn he felt there. Certainly the burn from hellfire.

\--

Credence walked slowly home, clutching his flyers to his chest as he silently begged the night for a cool breeze.

The summer vacation had begun and as such Credence no longer had the reprieve of school. He handed out flyers on the Las Vegas strip during the summers with his sisters while their mother stood in the blistering sun and preaches about the evils of the entire city.

Credence was always sent home early to prepare dinner, a small mercy in his mind, and now he walked from the bus stop to his front door, mindless of anything but the prospect of cool air conditioning and a glass of water.

“Hey there, sweet thing.”

Credence whirled around, stepping clumsily off the curb and staring at the unfamiliar man standing before him. He shook slightly as he shuffled back, watching the man watch him with eyes that looked more like black marbles than something on a human face. 

“H-hello.” He whispered, stepping back slightly into the street, looking around nervously. The lamps were on along the street and he could see a few houses with lights on, but no one would bother helping him, not when Mary Lou made him go door to door preaching her beliefs.

“Forgive me, I’ve scared you.” The man swaggered off the curb, following Credence as the boy quailed and crept towards the other side of the street. “It’s not safe out for sweet little bites such as yourself. Let me walk you home.” The man held out his hand and Credence jerked back, shaking his head silently. “Come now, boy, it’s dangerous out at night.”

When the man’s hand reached out for Credence’s neck the boy didn’t hesitate, throwing the flyers into the man’s face, earning a shout of anger before he bolts down the street. He didn’t know who this man was, what this man was, but he knew he needed to get away. Now.

He stumbled and gasped as his lungs burnt with the sudden exertion, scrambling up the path to his front door, fumbling his key into the lock and racing in, slamming the door shut just as the man reached out and howled with pain. Credence let out a shout as the man’s hand was caught in the doorframe, pulling back before baring his teeth and slamming the door onto the man’s wrist, a sickening crack filling the air before the arm was twisting in a sickening way and clawing at his sleeve, the iron grip not hindered by the bone protruding through skin. 

Snarling with desperation, Credence grabs the crucifix by the door as he braced his shoulder upon the wood. Turning so that the small, silver body of Christ faced the man’s skin, he slammed the wood into the flesh, watching as skin crackled and burned and smoked, the man jerking back with a howl of pain. Credence managed to close and bolt the door, gasping for breath as his heart pounded loud in his ears and chest and palm where he gripped the crucifix.

The boy shook, sinking to the floor and stumbling, crawling back into the living room, staring with wide eyes at the hunched and cursing figure on his porch. He heard another sickening snap, several smaller pops, and then the figure was standing upright again, turning to peer through the distorted glass of the front door. 

“Naughty boy.” The man’s voice called through, high and taunting, his nails scratching lightly at the glass and making Credence’s shiver with fear. “Let me in, sweet boy, and I won’t slaughter your family when they arrive.”

Credence’s heart stuttered and stopped before he was slowly, carefully getting to his feet. 

“I don’t want them, of course. But they’d serve their purpose. I’d be able to glut myself freely on them for days I’m sure.”

Credence trembled and reached out his hand for the door knob, only to freeze when he heard another voice coming from the kitchen, muffled but unmistakable. 

“Credence. Come here.”

Glancing at the front door, then the hallway leading to the kitchen, Credence chewed his lower lip before he threw the cross to the floor, turned and bolted for the kitchen, throwing open the door to the back and shaking as he stared up at Mr. Graves. 

“Stay inside.” The man ordered, moving to reach for Credence but stopping just before the threshold. Credence leaned forward, pushing his cheek into the man’s palm and whimpering softly in fear.

“He-he-he wants to eat me.” The boy stared up at the man, shaking. “He wants to kill me.”

“Of course he does, sweet boy.” Graves murmured, stroking his fingers over Credence’s jaw, lingering at his pulse. “But I won’t let him.”

Credence melted easily at the words, nodding and letting the man step away, whimpering and lingering as he watched Graves through the open door. 

“How sentimental.” The stranger’s voice called and Graves sneered, turning to look at the other vampire. “Really. I’m getting choked up.”

“Back off.” Graves leaned against the doorway, glaring at the other man. “Go scavenge off some stripper, this boy is mine.”

“Sharing is caring, Graves.” The man stepped forward, his teeth too sharp, too long, too straight, and Credence trembled and stepped back but didn’t close the door.

The stranger placed his hand on the doorway, standing barely two feet from Graves now, his nails tapping upon the wood. Graves stared at the man square in the eye, arms still folded over his chest as he spoke, “You really don’t want to do that.”

Credence was aware of everything in that moment as if it was happening at a quarter of the normal speed, watching as Mr. Graves reached out, grabbing the throat of the other man, lunging forward and sinking his teeth into the tender skin, ripping out the windpipe of the stranger. Massive claws slashed at Graves’ face and neck, the man scrambling to push the man away. Credence gasps as Graves’ hand grabbed at the man’s chin, shoving his head back, and back, and back, snapping the column of his spine and tearing at the tendons, ripping and snarling and covered in blood that gushed out from the gnawed carnage that Graves had made.

When the other man was on the ground, legs twitching, teeth clenched and eyes rolled back, Credence couldn’t help but sit, trembling in terror at the sight of Graves. The man was dripping with blood, the man’s shoulders rolling as Credence watched muscle and skin reknit, covering where the stranger had clawed through flesh deep enough to reach bone. Graves turned, his mangled features righting themselves, one burst and bleeding eye reforming perfectly. 

When the body on the ground started to burn and crumble, turning to ash and blowing away, Credence felt himself go faint, whimpering out softly as he stared at Graves.

“Credence. Come here.” Mr. Graves ordered and Credence was helpless to do anything but bring himself shaking to his feet, wobbly, coltish legs leading him to the arms of the man.

A dry, heaving sob escaped him and he clutched at Graves’ shoulders, fearful but embracing the very source of some of that fear.

“There there, my sweet boy.” A broad hand rubbed firmly over Credence’s back as he hiccups and chokes on his sobs. “You’re safe. I won’t let anyone take you.”

“You killed him.” The boy whispered. “You killed him for me.”

“I did.” Graves kissed at Credence’s temple, stroking his fingers through the choppy, too short strands and over Credence’s cheek gently. “Anything to keep you safe.”

Credence sobbed again and pressed his face to Graves’ chest, clutching at his shirt tightly. “Take me away.” He whispered, unaware of the words tumbling from his lips over the sound of his own pounding heart. “Please.”

\--

Mary Lou was a petty, unstable tyrant. Credence was never sure what had made her that way or if she had always been like that. He had never met her family and sometimes wondered if she was an orphan like he had been as well. He wondered if her unkind nature had been learned or developed through neglect. 

He thought of Mr. Graves next door, packing up his things, arranging for a new house, selling what he did not care to pack. He thought of the promised future open to him, whispered in his ear before Mary Lou and the girls had returned home. He had almost begged the man to take him to his home, to not let him spend another day with Mary Lou’s rage and Chastity and Modesty’s apathy. But he had not asked and so he had not been given it, simply pressing his face to the man’s neck and whispering that he would wait until Graves was ready to leave before he was gently released and ordered back to the Barebone house.

Placing the large, simple tureen of soup on the table, Credence sat beside his mother and Chastity, Modesty on Mary Lou’s other side, her hands gripping theirs fiercely and viciously as she bowed her head and began the grace. 

“Oh Lord, we bless this food given to us by your providence and pray that you in all your grace and wisdom might nourish our souls to grant us life everlasting. Amen.”

“Amen.” The children echoed softly before Mary Lou grasped the metal ladle and began to serve them dinner, the watery, barely nutritional cabbage soup only filling the bowls a quarter of the way before the woman replaced the lid on the tureen and began to slowly, carefully eat. 

Credence held back a sigh as he did the same, trying to savour his portion, knowing it would have to last him through the next day while he was walking along the strip in the summer sun. They ate in silence for a good ten minutes before Mary Lou took in a deep, slow breath through her nose, Credence and the girls freezing silently at the gesture, staring down at their bowls.

“Credence.” The woman looked to him and Credence froze, lowering his spoon cautiously to the bowl again. “What is that smell?”

He frowned slightly, looking at her in confusion before shaking his head. “I... I don’t understand?”

“It smells like man.” She stated simply, lowering her own spoon to the bowl. Pushing the utensil to a precise ninety degree angle, she corrects herself. “Cologne.”

Credence froze, eyes wide as he stared at the woman, wondering how much worse his punishment would be if he lied to her. 

“You’ve been seeing him!” The calm cadence of her voice escalated to a scream and the girls scrambled back even as Credence all but threw himself to the floor. “What have you done with him, you vile, wretched creature?!” Credence crawled under the table for a brief moment, her hand snagging on his pant leg before he ripped himself free and raced into the foyer. 

There was a knock at the door and the entire family froze, staring at one another. Credence took a shaky breath, pivoting slowly, carefully, still facing Mary Lou as the woman clenched her fist and stared at him.

When there was a second knock Credence ran to the door, throwing it open and nearly sobbing with relief at the sight of Graves standing on the doorstep, his bulk eclipsing the lamplight from the street as he looked down at Credence. He opened his arms, prepared to throw himself at the man, cling to him like his life depended on it, hide away from Mary Lou and her cruelty. 

A vicious hand grabbed at his jacket, pulling him back before he could step over the threshold, Mary Lou’s strong grip easily throwing Credence to the ground.

“You are not welcome here, demon.” Mary Lou snarled, grasping the crucifix that hung beside the door and Credence’s eyes widened as he realised what she was doing. He trembled and tried to stand, only to be kicked down once more, her shoe catching him in the cheek and sending him curling onto the floor. “You will not prey upon the righteous in this house. You are not invited within this home.”

“Mr. Graves.” Credence whimpered, staring up at the man as the man paced and lunged but did not cross the threshold, snarling with his face inches from Mary Lou’s. The woman held the cross like a weapon, as if prepared to reach out and smite the man with it, only to keep herself well within the threshold, fearful of retaliation should she try. 

“We’re leaving, Credence. Now.” The man stated simply, looking straight at Mary Lou as he spoke. 

“I will kill him before he goes with the likes of you.” The woman hissed, and Credence crawled to his knees, shuffling backwards slowly before he stumbled back into the dining room. 

“Chastity, Modesty, go.” He whispered, grabbing the girls even as they screamed and struggled. “You’re not safe here, _go_.” 

Distantly, Credence could hear the scrape of metal on the ground, the heavy sound of imact, then - “ _What is that unholy creature doing to my front lawn?!_ ” 

Credence paused, confused for a moment before he looked out the door, seeing Graves digging up enormous chunks of dirt, of rock, his powerful shoulders working deftly as he went. “Chastity, Modesty, go now!” He grabbed the girls even more firmly, practically dragging them to the front door. “Run!” Shoving them out into the yard he watched them leave, making sure they made it to the neighbour’s across the street, Graves paying them no mind as he worked with a single minded intensity on the yard. 

“You!” Mary Lou grabbed at his hair, yanking his head back, only for Credence to grab her wrist, arms shaking as she dragged him down the hallway. “You brought this disease upon my house! Demon child! You’ve damned us all to hell!”

“Ma!” Credence shouted, struggling as he pulled and stumbled back into the counter. 

“I am not your Ma.” The woman hissed, grabbing Credence’s face and all but spitting the words at him. Credence heard the snap and hiss of the gas lines breaking, the scent of rotting eggs filling the kitchen. “Cleanse the house.” Credence opened his mouth to speak, only to freeze at the sight of their sharpest carving knife in Mary Lou’s steady hand, her eyes fixed upon him. “Cleanse the house and you will be free... I’ll get rid of you once and for all, demon child.”

Credence scrambled backwards, cornered as Mary Lou approached him, the woman raising the knife. “Ma, please, please, don’t do this.” He trembled, holding out his hand as if that might stop her, flinching back and turning away as the knife swung down. 

The explosion that burst out from the oven filled the air with heat and caused Credence’s ears to pop with the roar of it, sound muffled and distant as he stared at Mary Lou, the woman screaming and writhing, falling to the ground. The scent of cooked meat and smoke filled Credence’s lungs and he coughed, scrambling away as the woman tried to claw at his leg, fire licking at every inch of her flesh and clothing. Credence whimpered, covering his ears and turning away, his eyes fixing on the place where the knife had fallen, bits of Mary Lou’s burnt skin clinging to the metal handle.

He kicked out, sending the woman sprawling and screaming back before he coughed, turning to see the burning remains of his old life, stumbling through the foyer that was slowly creeping and catching fire, to the front door, coughing and smoking and gasping as he made contact with the solid chest of Mr. Graves. 

Looking up in shock he gasped as he saw the man standing in his home, even if only a few steps within. Strong, sturdy arms, arms that felt like they could rend him easily in half, collected him close, lifting him off his feet and into the man’s warm embrace. “Don’t need an invitation if there’s no house.” He stated simply, lips twisting into a wide grin to show off the sharp, pointed fangs and too long teeth he wore behind his lips. 

Credence laughed, softly at first, hysteria building with each choked noise as he looked over the man’s shoulder to watch his old life burn, clinging to Graves’ tee shirt as the man carried him next door. Credence didn’t look away from the bonfire of his old home until Graves was loading him into the passenger side of the truck, buckling him in carefully before stroking a hand through soft hair and looking at him firmly.

Those deep, black eyes stared right into his soul, it seemed, pulling at him, compelling him, and when Mr. Graves ordered him softly, “Sleep, I’ll wake you when we get there.” He couldn’t help but obey.

\--

It was the second day of their journey and Credence had not woken. Just as Graves had told him. Lifting the boy from the passenger door, the dark pre-dawn bathing the entire world in black and deep blues, Graves walked up to the motel reception, tucking Credence’s head to his neck as he did so. The bored looking girl behind the counter gave him a key without question and Graves found the room, closing the bathroom door, putting the Do Not Disturb hanger on the handle to the room, and making sure the curtains were closed tightly before he even began to lower Credence to the bed.

The boy was sickly. Too thin for his height, and Graves felt that he might crush the child with his strength if he so much as jostled Credence wrong.

He couldn’t feed the boy properly, not without waking him, and he honestly wasn’t sure what might greet him if he did let the boy wake. He had been on the verge of hysteria, fear and relief and all manner of rampant emotions making his scent sharp and bitter. He had one more stretch before they got to the new house and he could bring Credence to the surface and deal with whatever emotional landmines there might be left untriggered by the deep sleep.

So for now Credence lays unconscious on the motel bed, Graves watching the boy as long, sprawling limbs twitch lightly as the boy dreams. He can see his eyes moving beneath the thin lids and he can feel Credence’s breath swirling through the air. He can smell and hear the languid, steady slosh of the boy’s blood through his veins, through the arteries of his heart. He couldn’t resist leaning forward, his face tucking to the slim, elegant arch of the boy’s throat, smelling the sweet, cloying scent of the boy and his virgin blood.

So very sweet. 

Laying on the bed, still fully clothed, Graves pressed his cool skin to Credence’s frame, feeling the boy shudder and arch into the planes of Graves’ chest. He hadn’t eaten in days by now, but he could go another day without becoming so ravenous. But oh... The boy’s blood _sang_ to him, sweet and thick and so very ready. So very willing. 

Broad, warm palms slid over Credence’s waist, up his ribs, counting each individual curve of bone, before he cupped over the boy’s chest, feeling the rise and fall as the boy breathed deeply, feeling the even rhythm of his heart. Graves paused, breath trembling and cool against Credence’s jaw as he inhaled the scent of him, open mouthed and hungry, his fangs bare millimeters from the tender flesh. 

How easy it would be to simply close that too small distance and sink his teeth into the vulnerable flesh exposed to him, to suck a few gentle, delicate sips from the sweet curve of his throat, and then let the boy awake later with no memory of the touches. His saliva would heal the wounds and leave no trace of his transgression, of his temptation and violation.

But he wouldn’t. He wanted Credence to be awake, offering him willing the taste Graves desperately wanted to take.

He let out a shuddering breath, lowering his mouth to kiss the skin, tasting sweat and flesh and the heady chocolate bitter-sweet taste of Credence’s blood singing beneath his veins, resting his fangs on the flesh but not pressing, not tasting, simply taunting himself so that the taste would be so much better when he had it. As Credence sighed and tilted his head to give Graves better access, even in sleep, the man couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him or the way his lips curved into a grin. 

“Oh perfect little creature... The things I’ll do to you.”

\--

The first deep inhale before waking was like filling his lungs with air after a month underwater. He felt alive, clean, renewed. Rolling onto his side in the large, luxurious bed and paused as he blinked in the darkness. Looking over to the window he stood, walking on wobbly legs to peel back the curtain. The blacked out windows made his heart skip as he turned, walking down the stairs carefully, quietly.

“Credence.” 

The boy froze, trembling with fear and excitement in equal measures as he stepped down the last few steps. 

Mr. Graves was sitting in the living room, cast in darkness save for the glow of the television showing some morning show on the screen. He was looking up at Credence. 

Credence paused before moving to stand beside the man, shivering slightly when one of those big, cool palms slid over his waist, pulling him closer until he was all but falling into the man’s lap. “Credence.” The man repeated gently, stroking his fingers through the choppy, ugly bowlcut he wore. “You slept the whole way here. Are you hungry?” The man asked, peering down at the boy, gently soothing his free hand over Credence’s side, feeling his skinny flank. 

He was starving but he couldn’t tell if that was the right answer. He was always uncertain as to what would be the right answer with Graves. 

“Here.” The man picked up a green apple from a bowl on a side table, right next to the Budweiser that the man favoured. He held the fruit to Credence’s lips, smiling gently at him as Credence hesitantly tilted his head, lifting a hand to collect the fruit in his own palm. The first bite he took was large and messy and the juice spilled down his chin, the boy lifting his long sleeve to wipe up the dribbles of sticky fluid as he looked at Graves with embarrassed, wide eyes.

The man simply smiled and lowered his hand, gently combing his fingers through Credence’s short hair, the touch gentle and soothing and oh so very addictive as Credence leaned into it.

This was probably how Eve felt, trapped in the embrace of the serpent, tempted with Forbidden Fruit and that which Adam had never given her, had never offered. He could forgive her own, could sympathise with her. Desire was one of the most potent temptations and Credence could feel it festering deep in his bones.

“There you go... That’s it, sweet boy.” The man stroked his fingers over Credence’s chin and jaw, smiling up at him when Credence realised he had finished the apple. “How about I make you some food and you rest here for a moment?”

Credence shook his head wildly, leaning into Mr. Graves and shivering slightly, pressing close to his cool skin and nuzzling up against his neck. 

The man had no pulse. 

But oh he felt nothing but comfort from where he was curled against the man. This man who saved him from monsters, from his mother, who could protect him, drive off anything lurking in the dark.

“Alright, alright.” The man wrapped his arms more firmly about Credence, lifting the boy easily even as Credence’s arms snapped up to clutch at Graves’ shoulder and the back of his neck. “Hold on to me, just like that.” And soon he was deposited on the counter in the kitchen, watching as Graves fumbled about in the kitchen, collecting eggs and bread and some bacon, mumbling about cooking and how he wasn’t the best at it. 

Still, the fried eggs were cooked, the bacon wasn’t burnt, and the man only had to throw away one piece of toast that had gotten a little bit too charred. 

Credence ate the serving he was given, chewing slowly and carefully savouring it before he looked up at Graves, fidgetting with his plate and moving towards the sink.

“Are you still hungry?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. One more serving, then we’ll wait for a bit before you eat more.” The man smiled and gave Credence another portion of the eggs and bacon, buttering another piece of toast and perching it on the corner of Credence’s plate. “I don’t want you getting sick from gorging yourself.”

Credence nodded, eating his second portion and drinking the tall glass of milk that Graves poured him before he was given another glass of water. Graves smiled at him as Credence finally placed the glass aside, the man leaning on the counter, his hands on either side of the boy’s thighs as he watched Credence.

He wasn’t sure why the words spilled from his lips, but before he could stop himself he was speaking, “You’re a demon.”

“I’m a vampire.” Graves responded easily. “There’s a difference.”

“You - that man a month ago. He was a vampire as well?”

“Yes.” Graves stroked his fingers over Credence’s cheek. “I couldn’t very well have him sinking his teeth in you.”

“Why?” The boy asked, insistent and frightened, desperate to know that he had not made a mistake. 

The man’s large palm cupped Credence’s chin and jaw, his thumb tracing a slow line from jaw, over his plush, full lower lip. “Don’t you know?” His nose brushed against Credence’s and the boy’s breath hitched against the man’s mouth bare inches from his own. “Because I want you. And I always get what I want.”

A part of Credence, small and trembling, shook like a leaf in autumn at that, at the casual ownership, at the way the man’s voice lowered and thrilled him to his core. “But I’m not... I don’t...” He was not worth anything. Not a single solitary thing about skinny, beaten down Credence Barebone was special.

“There there, sweet thing.” He murmured as Credence lifted his hand to press to the man’s chest hesitantly. “You are... So very lovely.” His breath ghosted over the boy’s jaw and neck and Credence arched and whimpered. “I need you, Credence.” His fingers slid up the boy’s thigh and the boy gasped and jerked, his leg pulling back sharply, only for Graves to cup his palm underneath the meat of the skinny limb. “I feel the need for you like a hunger."

“I’m not... I didn’t mean to.” The boy whispered, his fingers clutching at the man’s shoulders as Graves stared at him with that enduring burning hunger. “Mr. Graves...” His chest clenched and tears brimmed in his eyes, his hand reaching up to scrub at his face. “I’m sorry.” He wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for, whether it was for his fear, for being what he was in general, for his sinful nature... For the desire he felt burning in the pit of his stomach. But it was all he could gather, whispering the words over and over again as Graves stared at him.

The man pulled back slowly, smirking as he looked down at the boy. “That’s fine. I can wait, sweetling.” He straightened, lifting Credence into his arms and carrying him back to the living room. “I’ve waited for centuries for someone like you. I can wait a bit longer.”

\--

The Moorhead Center Mall was a squat, brown thing, a single level with shops that served more function than high fashion.

Graves was burdened down with several bags and boxes, all of which Credence often suggested that he take some of only for the man to brush him off. There were heavy sweaters and two thick coats for the coming Minnesota winter, long, tight fitted jeans that Credence had felt almost embarrassed to want simply because of the way that Graves looked at him while he wore them. Tennis shoes and a pair of boots, and one set of simple black shoes with pointed toes and a small heel that Graves had gotten him simply because Credence had liked them. He knew that Graves had seen Credence eyeing the pretty, simple things that he had seen in the windows of lingerie stores, curious and quietly wondering to himself if Mr. Grave would purchase those if he asked. Embarrassment kept him from asking and letting himself be led back to their car in the lot.

It wasn’t much, the purchases of basics to hang in his closet in his new, rather large bedroom, but it was far grander than anything that Credence had owned before. 

Going home Credence practically vibrated with the happy anticipation of the full fridge. Food overflowing, a variety of things to eat, all for Credence. Orange juice and apples and yogurt and fresh beef and chicken and fish, bacon and eggs and sweet red onions and garlic and greens that tasted bitter but he had learned how to season properly. It had only been a week and already he felt healthier. 

Credence ate a sandwich, thick with onions and spinach and roast beef and mayo and toasted in the oven until the cheese layered inside was melting. He sat on the floor in the kitchen, the fridge open, eating a cup of yogurt and crunching on a pickle in turns, looking up when Graves returned from where he had been upstairs, putting away Credence’s things. The man leaned on the counter, smiling down at the boy as Credence licked the last of the yogurt off of his spoon, eyes turning up to Graves as the man stared at him.

He flushed but didn’t move from where he sat on the cool tiles, leaning against the cabinet, looking into the full fridge that was the only thing currently illuminating the kitchen. The man’s expression was so... Charmed by the way Credence kept glancing into the fridge, admiring the sight of so much food all for him, brows smoothed out and the man perching his jaw on his palm as he looked at the boy.

“Finish your sandwich and then we’re going to the doctor.” The man ordered gently and Credence nodded, polishing off the last few bites before he collected another yogurt cup from the fridge, following Graves out of the house and into the late evening darkness. 

Curled up in the front seat, Credence didn’t miss the way the man’s eyes flickered to his lips whenever he lifted the spoon to his mouth, the boy flushing but unable to care about what the man might think of his lips wrapped around the spoon. Every once in awhile the man’s eyes would linger too long on Credence before flickering back to the road as they drove closer and closer to the center of town.

Like all things in Fargo, the building was minimal, squat and sturdy and made for the harsh winters. The single nurse at the front desk was similarly built, looking up and giving a cheerful smile as she bustled over. 

“Oh, you must be the boy! Dr. Saperstein said to just bring you right back!”

Credence looked up at Graves, who easily took his hand and led him back, depositing the finished yogurt cup into the trash and lifting the spoon to his own mouth. Credence watched with wide eyes as the spoon was licked clean and then tucked into Graves’ pocket, the man leaning against the doorway. The nurse weighed him, took down his height, asked him if he smoke or drank or had sexual intercourse, all of which he shook his head quietly to, before she was gone, leaving Credence to fidget and swing his legs slightly as he sat on the examination table, taking in the cheerful jungle-themed wallpaper that covered the room.

The doctor came in, an older man with a kind smile as he looked at Credence. “Hello, Credence. I’m Dr. Saperstein.” His stethoscope had a heart on the plastic part and his reflex hammer was shaped like a giraffe and he was much kinder looking than the pediatrician that Mary Lou had always taken him to, who had leered at Credence in a way that had made him always scared of undressing for his checkups. “Now I see here that you’re sixteen and I managed to get ahold of your shots record without much trouble. You’re up to date on all of your shots, but what we’re most worried about is malnourishment.”

Credence looked at Mr. Graves, uncertainly fidgeting with his fingers before looking back at Dr. Saperstein and his kind eyes. “Alright.”

“I’m going to need you to remove your shirt and lay down on the table.” The man sat in the small rolling stool, making a few notes in the file so as to give Credence some level of privacy. Credence fidgeted, pulling off his sweater and the shirt beneath to reveal the network of scars across his back, arms, chest, disappearing beneath his beltline. He didn’t look at Graves, but he heard the sharp inhale and could practically feel the rage rolling off the man. 

Saperstein’s own eyes were pained and sad but he didn’t say anything, a mercy that Credence was grateful for. Laying down he prepared for the lingering, sweeping touches he had come to expect, only to be pleasantly surprised when Saperstein’s touch, while firm and assessing, was not crawling or lewd, did not linger near his groin or thighs.

A few more tests, mostly of his reflexes, eyesight, hearing, rubbing at his throat just beneath his jaw before the man sat back and made his notes. 

“So.” Saperstein smiled at them, gesturing for Credence to put his shirt back on. “It’s bad. There’s no sugar coating that. You’re severely malnourished and have a little bit of a calcium deficiency. Do you suffer from back pains and muscle spasms in your back?” Credence nodded. “I figured as much. Your hormones are also seem to be causing some issue, but I do believe that with a less stressful environment and plenty of health changes your body will balance itself out in no time. In the meantime we’re going to be focusing on a few things, mainly dietary.”

Doctor Saperstein flicked through his clipboard before finding a slip of paper and tugging it out, collecting a red pen from his coat and circling a few things. “We want to introduce some more calcium, iron, and vitamin C into your diet especially, but you need a healthy diet all around. What did your previous home usually feed you?”

“Cabbage soup and water.” Credence answered without hesitation. “The soup usually had chicken.”

“You’ll need to get used to red meat. And some chocolate, in small amounts, won’t hurt. Drink lots of orange juice, I want you to eat leafy greens, greens of all kinds. Stay away from potatoes, rice, pasta, starches for now. They’ll fill you up but leave you with no appetite for much else.” Handing over the list to Credence the man stood, smiling down at the boy. “I’m also writing you a prescription for some Dronabinol. Now this is an appetite stimulant. Your body is still learning how to be properly hungry, so whenever you feel like you’re just not hungry but haven’t eaten in awhile I need you to take one pill, understand?”

Credence nodded, accepting the second paper.

“Do you have any questions for me?” 

Credence flushed and looked down, glancing at Mr. Graves who had been silently watching the proceedings up until now. “Would you like me to step out, Credence?”

Credence shook his head, glancing between the Doctor and Graves before looking down. 

“I get dreams.” He whispered softly, as if confiding a secret. “And my stomach burns and I know it’s the devil trying to get out but I don’t know how to stop it.”

“Oh dear.” Saperstein sighed, moving to sit beside Credence on the examination table, on the side not facing Graves so that the man could see Credence in his entirety. “Credence, that’s not the devil. That’s those hormones we were talking about. And it’s good, natural. Whatever you heard before... It’s not true, understand?” The man smiled down at Credence. “Now. Next time you get one of those dreams, if you really don’t like it, then go into the shower and turn the water as cold as you can stand it, okay?”

Credence nodded, looking up at the man with worried eyes. “I’m not... I’m not a pervert, am I?”

“No, Credence, you’re not.” And Dr. Saperstein said it with such conviction, with such kindness in his eyes, that Credence could almost believe him. “Mr. Graves here, on the other hand, looks a little dodgy, wouldn’t you say?”

“Oh come off it, Abe.” Graves scoffed, glaring playfully at the man, and Credence couldn’t help but giggle, rubbing at his eyes and cheeks to stave off the worried tears that had gathered there. “Don’t go telling the boy that.”

“If you don’t feel like you can talk to Mr. Graves about these things, Credence,” The man held out a card with a number written in his wobbly quick handwriting. “This is my number, you call me if you need to talk about something, day or night, alright?”

Credence nodded, carefully tucking the card into his pocket and holding the other papers in his hands. 

“Good. Well then. I think we’re done here, let’s take you to Nurse Laura Louise and we’ll get you home.”

Credence followed Mr. Graves as the man went, paid for the appointment in cash, and then carefully guided Credence back to the truck. They swung by the Pharmacy, handing over the prescription and wandering the aisles, picking up a few supplements that Saperstein had circled on the list of dietary requirements. As they went to pay and check out, Graves picked up a candy bar from the racks near the front, smiling softly down at Credence as he placed the purple wrapped sweet atop their other purchases. 

“He did say you needed some chocolate.”

Credence smiled, bowing his head slightly as the items were paid for and the chocolate bar handed to him. It had almonds in it and he nibbled happily at the bar as they got into the truck and made their way back home.

Home... It was such a strange, wonderful concept. Someplace that was theirs, only theirs, that they lived and enjoyed living and was theirs.

He had a life now. As strange as it was, as uncertain as it was, it was better than what he had with Mary Lou.

Staring at Mr. Graves as the man drove through the pitch darkness, headlights illuminating the black asphalt, he couldn’t help but smile slightly.

This was his life now... _His_... And he was Mr. Graves’ now. However the man wanted him.

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by ambedoandangst on tumblr.
> 
> So this actually started off as a much more ambitious project than what you see here. I, unfortunately, have the attention span of a mayfly on crack cocaine. What you see here is about half of what I ACTUALLY had planned, but I felt was substantial enough to stand alone. 
> 
> I will probably add more on! Just not right now, as another project has grabbed my attention and I desperately need to write that project out to get it out of my system. For now, though, enjoy Fright Night!


End file.
